


Collision

by KatherineBelle



Category: Captain America (Movies), The Witcher (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Artist Steve Rogers, M/M, Non-Serum Steve Rogers/Winter Soldier Bucky Barnes | Shrinkyclinks, Pre-Slash, The Witcher (but only kinda), Witcher Bucky Barnes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-01
Updated: 2020-06-01
Packaged: 2021-03-03 00:07:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,818
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24485584
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KatherineBelle/pseuds/KatherineBelle
Summary: Bucky meets the disaster-beacon for the first time in a tavern brawl.Scratch that, Bucky walks into a brawl the man started.He almost turns around and walks back out, but it has been a long fucking week, he has coin for a room, and he intends to sleep in a bed tonight. This is the only inn for miles, and he doesn't have coin enough for the brothelHe picks the tiny slip of a man out immediately, the ire of the crowd focusing on a youth in blue with golden hair.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers
Comments: 7
Kudos: 104





	Collision

**Author's Note:**

> All I know about The Witcher is mainlining smut for 2 weeks. This is me appeasing my goblin brain, nothing more.

Bucky meets the disaster-beacon for the first time in a tavern brawl.

Scratch that, Bucky walks into a brawl the man started.

He almost turns around and walks back out, but it has been a long fucking week, he has coin for a room, and he intends to sleep in a bed tonight. This is the only inn for miles, and he doesn't have coin enough for the brothel.

He picks the tiny slip of a man out immediately, the ire of the crowd focusing on a youth in blue with golden hair.

Gods be damned, here he goes.

Bucky strides into the fray, budging people aside. Most go to hit him before they realize who they'd be hitting. He snatches the youth up by the back of his coat and lifts him bodily.

"Keeper, I will be wanting a room," he calls out as he carries the perpetrator out of the building, yowling like a doused cat.

"Get your hands off me, you brute! Unhand me at once, before I fucking knock you out, I swear I'll-"

The horse trough is cold enough to quiet the youth, leaving him spitting and gasping but speechless when Bucky rights him on his feet.

"You are too small to be in the middle of that. You could be killed."

"I could do this all day," the youth banters, wiping his bloody nose on his sleeve. "They didn't see my next move coming."

"You are a disaster," Bucky says, but a slight edge of a smile tugs at his mouth.

"You are a witcher," the man says, finally realizing just who hauled him out of the tavern. "You- you're a witcher."

"A disaster and daft, what a mix." Bucky turns to go back inside, leaving the drenched kitten of a man behind him.

"What's your name?" The youth asks.

"Don't bother yourself with it," Bucky replies, too tired to indulge him any longer.

...

The second time they meet, Bucky learns his name.

He hears it being yelled from an alley between a butcher shop and a tailor.

"You dare threaten a woman while Steve Rogers is around?! You think you can get away with-"

The sound of a fist on a face, and blood adds to the scent Bucky didn't realize he had memorized.

Graphite, oil paints, blood. An artist with a thirst for pain, apparently.

He rounds the corner to find two huge men cornering the slip of a youth he met in that tavern over a year ago.

"He's not worth your time," Bucky drawls, smirking when the men jump. "How do you think you'd do in a fair fight?"

He's a solid inch taller than both of them, and broader. He's also a witcher of Kaehr Mahran, his wolf pendant glinting under golden eyes. He strikes an intimidating image.

The men escape down a back turn before he can say anything else, leaving the bloodied youth - Steve Rogers, apparently- behind.

"We have got to stop meeting like this, boy. Do you attempt to fight every man larger than you? Or do I just have good timing?"

"You didn't hear what they said they'd do to the butcher's daughter." Steve spits blood. "They deserved anything I could give them."

"You cannot single-handedly take on all evil men," Bucky says. "Try not to let me find you like this again."

"You apparently come yearly. Maybe you won't next time."

...

Steve is right. Bucky doesn't find him in a fight the third time their paths cross. Instead, he finds him in the arms of a stable hand, pinned against a post right beside where Plum is supposed to be spending her night.

"Hmm." It comes out loud, rough. The men startle apart, and Steve's lust-droopy eyes light up.

(Bucky ignores the twitch of his heart at the lack of fear in his scent.)

"The witcher! I told you I wouldn't be fighting this year."

"No, instead you're fucking. Move. Plum needs her rest."

Plum huffs at having to wait, so close to a brushing and dinner and yet so far.

"Right, yes, Mr. Witcher sir, our apologies," the stable hand stutters out, moving Steve away from the empty stall.

"Quiet, boy. I'm not worth the bowing." Bucky ignores their exit as he gets Plum settled for the night, scratching her nose before he heads inside for dinner and a hot bath.

He'd kill for a hot bath.

Darcy, the proprietress, is glad to see him, one of the few people on the Continent who holds him in any kind of favor.

"Your usual, handsome? I'll have the girls start running your bath."

"Thank you."

When Bucky finally makes it upstairs, Steve is waiting.

"How have you been allowed back inside?"

"Is your arm mechanical or enchanted?" Steve asks with the air of someone who has been practicing.

"Both. Now move, you're ruining my plans."

"I just needed to know, that's all." Steve shrugs. "It's fascinating."

"Fuck off."

...

Steve is the one who finds the Witcher the next year - a solid month later than his usual trek. He had begun to think the Witcher was avoiding their town.

Instead, he finds a rider-less Plum pacing at the gate, and he follows her to her downed master.

"Witcher? Witcher, your horse brought me."

There is a huge bloody sack sitting by the man, obviously the head of whatever caused this damage. Steve is more concerned about the bloody gashes in the Witcher's shoulder, too close to his throat.

"Harpy," the man rasps. "Not enough potions."

"Okay. Okay, so you need to get cleaned up and also potions." Steve looks from the downed Witcher to the disgruntled horse. "Think you can get onto Plum so we can get you into town?"

It takes them entirely too long, but eventually Steve helps the near-corpse of a witcher onto the back of his horse. He is very lucky that his little shack of a cottage is on this end of town and not the other.

Steve ties Plum outside his house, promising her better shelter once the witcher is settled.

"I would take you to the inn, but I don't think you can handle stairs." Steve helps the increasingly less conscious man to his meager bed, uncaring of blood in the blankets as long as he doesn't have to watch him die.

Can Witchers die from this?

Steve puts the kettle on, fills the cauldron with water, and stokes the flames. As soon as he has hot water enough for cleaning, he coaxes the man out of his shirt.

"You should tell me your name when you wake," he says. "We know each other well enough by now."

The witcher doesn't respond to his nattering, but Steve focuses on what he knows about wounds. His ma was a healer. She'd be devastated if he lost his very first patient to fever or something.

Eventually, Steve has the gashes cleaned, stitched, and bandaged. The witcher is asleep, but it isn't the terrifying sleep of true unconsciousness.

No, the witcher seems to feel safe in Steve's bed.

Steve shakes the thought away as he goes to tend Plum. He's just a good helper, that's all. He doesn't even know the mountain of a man currently in his bed.

Steve falls asleep on the floor in front of the fire, startling awake when he hears the Witcher groan in pain.

"You- Steve?"

"I'm here." Steve rolls over to look at him. "Plum brought you to me - to town. You may not remember."

"Am... am I in your home?"

"Yeah. Where else would I take you?"

The man goes silent, and Steve takes the opportunity to stoke the fire. He hopes Plum is okay outside under his spare blanket.

"My name is Bucky."

Steve cherishes the gift of his name.

...

When Bucky returns to the village of Lyn the next year, Steve is gone.

"He's been hired," Darcy says, watching Bucky look around the tavern. "A noble is having him redo his town home, all new murals in every room of the house. He's been gone since the summer solstice."

Almost six months.

Bucky didn't realize how much he looked forward to his encounters with him until the prospect was ripped away.

"I'm sure you'll see him," Darcy says. "Just call at Lord Stark's the next time you go to the city."

Bucky absolutely does not file that away mentally.

And he also does not reroute his usual circuit to put him at the city sooner than later.

(Plum doesn't believe him when he says these things out loud. Then again, neither does Bucky.)

...

The fifth time Bucky and Steve collide, neither of them saw it coming.

To be fair, neither of them saw the carriage either, so one moment Steve is crossing the road, and the next he has a wall of Witcher pinning him to the cobblestones as the carriage goes wildly off down the road.

"No driver," Bucky grunts, pulling himself up. "Runaway horses."

"You saved me." Steve sits, breathless. "How - I mean, you usually aren't in the City until summer."

"I made a different route," Bucky rumbles. "Good thing too, or you'd be dead."

"You are my hero all over again." Steve takes the hand Bucky offers to stand. "Wait, where's Plum?"

"Stabled. You like the horse more than me."

"She's nicer. Anyway, come see my project? Since we're both here, apparently."

Bucky follows Steve to Lord Stark's massive townhome, through the servants entrance and into the great hall.

There, on one of the huge walls, is Steve's work. The scene is a large landscape, the rolling hills that Bucky recognizes as the land around Lyn, a brook flowing behind a tiny speck of a cottage. It's idyllic, even more beautiful than the real thing.

"I'm not quite done with the shading yet, but it's coming along well, I think." Steve gestures to the wall across from it. "I'm doing the night version on this side, with some of the nicest pigments I've ever seen. The budget and the scale, my gods, I can't even quite believe it."

Here, watching Steve ramble about his work, light shining in his eyes, Bucky realizes the feelings he's been harboring might go beyond mere fondness.

"...and you should stay for dinner. Lord and Lady Stark are wintering at the coast, so you're more than welcome. I have the run of the place." Steve stops, realizing Bucky hasn't said anything. "I mean. Only if you want to. I'm sure you're a busy man, and there are contracts to fulfill, and I won't keep you if you don't want to-"

"I came for you."

Steve stares at him. "What?"

"Darcy said you were here. So I came here." Bucky clears his throat. "For you."

Steve smiles, and it's like watching the sun rise.

"So that's a yes to dinner?"

Bucky kisses him, just to wipe the smug smirk off Steve's face.

**Author's Note:**

> Who knows, anymore?  
> Find me on tumblr @katbellewrites.


End file.
